


Rather be a lion

by Whiterabbit11



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Background Drarry, Background Linny, Drarry, Fluff, M/M, Oliver - Freeform, Perciver - Freeform, Sad lack of smut, percy - Freeform, sad lack of Wood jokes, sad lack of banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-08-22 15:11:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16600346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whiterabbit11/pseuds/Whiterabbit11
Summary: Two boys meet, go their separate ways, and return.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Ah well, Percy and Oliver](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/432167) by Atalienart. 



> Just recently I saw some adorable PercyxOliver art work by the very gifted Atalienart. Their work is so beautiful and inspired me to write this. It's not based on the artwork per se, just on the soft, fluffy feel of it.

Oliver Wood slammed the door on his shared house and hurried down the steps. Even from the pavement outside, he could hear the sounds of his housemates shouting, singing, playing music, and staccato thumps that might have been a quaffle hitting a wall. He sighed heavily as he pulled on his Muggle jacket. Cut in a popular bomber style, he knew it made his broad shoulders look even broader, and his long, jeans-clad legs appear even longer. Wizarding clothes were binding and fussy, and Oliver much preferred Muggle attire. Altogether, he cut a fine figure as he set off down the street in the general direction of the Ministry of Magic. He wasn’t intending to visit the Ministry itself. Oliver was a pro Quidditch player for Puddlemere Utd, and as such had no reason to busy himself in those halls of paperwork and red tape. However, the person Oliver most wanted to see was someone who loved those halls dearly, and lived as close by as he could manage. Oliver had winkled the address out of Hermione Granger of all people, the last time he had visited the Burrow.

The loss of Fred Weasley last year had hit the Weasleys hard and they were all, even Hermione and Harry, currently staying at the Burrow and keeping close to each other. Percy had returned alone to London and to his job at the Ministry shortly after the funeral, spearheading the effort to rebuild Hogwarts and get it ready for another school year, and then throwing himself into repairing the rest of the wizarding world. Molly confided to Oliver that Percy was too thin and too tired, working all hours and not making time for anyone or anything else.

Oliver couldn’t help but snort. No one knew better than he how Percy got when he had something to work towards. They had shared a dorm for seven years. Those seven years seemed both long and drawn out, and gone in a flash. The other chaps in their year had little time for either the Quidditch-obsessed Oliver or the studying-obsessed Percy. Their mutual drive and ambition had driven away even the most well-meaning Gryffindors to a respectful distance, and so Oliver and Percy had made an odd couple throughout their time there. Percy only went to games that Gryffindor played in once Oliver made the team. Oliver was vaguely proud of this fact – that he was more important in Percy’s mind than his own brothers. Both Bill and Charlie had been incredible players and Oliver looked up to them, but he also saw their casual dismissal of their younger brother. He didn’t go after them with stars in his eyes like many of his classmates.

When the twins came, they were at first an annoyance because they upset Percy so much. Later Oliver made Captain, and he was glad to have such a perfectly-matched pair of beaters. Oliver’s heart hurt as he thought of Fred and George flying through sunny Scottish skies in perfect formation. He rubbed his chest a little as he walked on in busy Muggle streets. Percy had never held it against him that he was so deeply enmeshed with Percy’s family, that Oliver fit in with them better than he did himself. But Oliver, in his own distracted, quiet way, held it against the Weasleys. He wasn’t good with words and emotions, and said nothing, but he noticed. Ron and Ginny were always there with a snide remark, the twins teased Percy mercilessly, and Harry, eager to belong to any family that would have him, never noticed that he had effectively replaced Percy. Oliver did what he could in his own boyish, careless way. He brought food up to the dorm for Percy when his revision timetable precluded necessities like meals. He knowingly walked into traps set by the twins for their quietest brother. Sometimes he coaxed the prefect out for a walk in the sunshine. And if Oliver treasured those walks more than all the giggling and hero-worship the other students had for Hogwarts most strapping, handsome Quidditch star, well, that was no one’s business but his own.

He remembered the hours Percy spent tutoring Oliver through essays and exam prep, making flash cards and even getting him to run laps of the quadrangle in some complicated exam-revision technique. He said Oliver learned better on the move. He was probably right, as Oliver had scraped the marks he needed to start in the professional league, straight from school. They had been together when their results were delivered by Hogwarts owls, sitting alone in the Head Boy’s room. As mere Quidditch captain, Oliver was expected to continue to room with the other lads as before. However, on the first day of seventh year he carried Percy’s second trunk (filled with books) up to the school like he always did. They went up to the Head Boy’s room, and looked around the large empty space. Percy murmured something about there being plenty of room. Oliver had simply grinned and dropped his own trunk. By that night, a second bed appeared. The two boys went to sleep with Oliver by the window and Percy to his left, like they had done for 6 years previous. When their results came, they sat on their own beds, opened their letters, and grinned across at each other. Percy came over eagerly and snatched Oliver’s letter, tutting with a smile over the short list of As and Es. Oliver ran his eye over the perfect set of eleven Os on Percy’s letter and said, “Ha!”

It went without saying that they were proud of each other.

Oliver looked up at Percy from his sitting position, and thought the slim redhead had never looked prettier. He kept his thoughts to himself like he always did, and just admired the way the sun caught Percy’s bright curls. He was young and strong and happy, and Oliver was so proud.

Offers for both of them came from everywhere, and soon they were both caught up in their own plans for the future. They said goodbye at Kings Cross for the last time, without words. Percy nudged Oliver gently, smiled up into his eyes with all the sweetness that no one else saw, and then he was gone.

Oliver kept in touch with the other Weasleys and Harry. He heard through them that Percy and Penelope had broken up. His brothers were scathing of Percy’s ability to keep a woman entertained, even one as pragmatic as Penelope, but Oliver’s heart leapt a little. A couple of times Oliver thought Hermione Granger was regarding him with quiet, clinical interest. He knew she was the brightest of them all, and wondered if she had guessed his secret. But they never had cause to talk, and the moment always passed. Hermione was busy keeping Harry and Ron alive, and surpassing Percy’s perfect academic record at the same time. Oliver was busy as a reserve for Puddlemere, and moved in with a host of other young players and hangers-on as was expected of him.

Then the war came.

Oliver considered wailing about cancelling Quidditch just because of a poxy war, but he had already learned his lesson there. Percy was the only one who had never mocked his obsessive interest, even wordlessly pulling Oliver out of the showers that time after the ignominious defeat by Hufflepuff. But now Oliver’s world was falling apart, and even Quidditch couldn’t distract him. People were disappearing. The children came back from Hogwarts bruised and traumatised, and their parents were forced to send them back for more of the same. The English wizarding way of life as they had known it was collapsing. Oliver’s father was one who disappeared, to the private relief of both Oliver and Mrs Wood. She had refused to leave Wood Snr through a lifetime of abuse, but she didn’t search for him once he was gone. Oliver didn’t either. They both quietly said that there wasn’t much to be done about it, and Oliver went to join the war effort. “Just wait,” was the answer from the Order, and that was that. Harry was gone again, along with his faithful sidekicks. Oliver saw Draco Malfoy in the distance once, and he looked like he had seen some shit. The blond was practically a wraith. From nowhere Oliver had the thought that Harry wouldn’t like to see him like this. More recently, he hadn’t been very surprised to find Draco at the Burrow also, plastered against Harry’s side and being cajoled to eat more by Molly.

When the call to battle came, Oliver went. He didn’t see the Weasleys at all, having being directed by Kingsley to another part of the fight. By the end of it, by luck alone he escaped with pretty minor injuries. His strength was useful after battle too, and he wiped his tears while he carried the bodies of children and adults alike back to the Great Hall. He expected to see Percy then, perhaps directing others, running about on Ministry business, bringing calm and order to the chaos that reigned. But Percy and the Weasleys were nowhere to be seen, and somehow, carried on the wind, Oliver understood that Fred was gone.

The memories punched Oliver in the gut all over again.

Quidditch had resumed, as had most parts of life. Oliver was now a reserve keeper, his final growth spurt giving him the bulk and weight he needed for that position. Sometimes it was hard to believe he was barely in his 20s. He felt much older, an affliction he shared with all the young people who had lived through the second war. He got on the field occasionally, and he was popular with the fans. He knew this was part of the game too, and made sure he gave the squealing girls something to ogle, showed off for them a little when things were slow. He still loved it. He loved flying, the competition, the fun of the thing, loved feeling his strength and power brought to bear on something as simple as blocking a quaffle. It wasn’t like blocking deadly spells on a battle field – he would leave that sort of nonsense to Ron and Harry, who apparently hadn’t had enough of it yet and were in Auror training. Oliver knew his limitations, and he didn’t have any more battles in him. Nights often saw him pacing, shaking, unable to sleep. The rowdiness of his housemates had been fun for a while, and the steady stream of nubile bodies offering themselves to him was lovely too. Oliver liked bright hair and slim hips, milky skin, freckles if he could get them. He didn’t even bother looking for a sharp mind wielded like a lance, a prickly demeanor that hid sudden sweetness deep within. Fun had been had, but more and more Oliver wished he could have the calm, steady presence that had carried him through his school years. Often, he would wake from nightmares and look instinctively to his left. But there was nothing there; no soothing splash of a low-strength lumos as Percy studied late into the night, wrapped up in heavy blankets and Weasley wool against the cold Scottish nights.

With a start, Oliver realised he had arrived at the address Hermione had provided him. She had smiled and given him a piercing look. His own eyes had drifted over to Harry and Draco, the blond draped over his lover lazily. Oliver’s eyes came back to Hermione’s kind gaze, and she had nodded. “He needs you,” she murmured.

Oliver had scoffed then and he scoffed now. Percy never really seemed to need anyone. His family had fostered independence in him to the highest degree, and he was always able to stay calm and focused in the madness of Gryffindor house. By the sounds of it, his post-war efforts had now raised him to being part of Kingsley’s personal staff. Every time he was mentioned in the paper, it was with glowing tones: the quiet hero who was turning the wizarding world around. No, Oliver was here because he needed Percy. It had taken a war to make him understand, but the redhead was the only one for him. He didn’t know if Percy could accept him the way Oliver wanted, but he would take what he could get. Maybe Percy would like a flatmate? Oliver wasn’t very tidy or good at remembering to buy milk, but he knew where Percy liked to keep everything and he wasn’t a bad cook. He couldn’t keep up with Percy’s brilliant mind, but then, neither could most people. Percy wouldn’t be looking for cleverness. Oliver breathed deeply, and reminded himself that he was a Griffindor. He walked through the main entrance area of a block of modest flats, found the right one, and rang the doorbell.

A thump sounded behind the door, and Oliver felt a scanning spell hit him. The feeling of Percy’s magic washed over him, along with a sense of intense nostalgia. He had often felt it in the form of cleaning spells, but Percy also healed him after training and matches, and their dorm was always full of his warming charms.

Now the door opened wide, and inside stood the man of Oliver’s imaginings. He was at once so different from the hopeful young lad who had walked away at Kings Cross, and still so achingly the same. His hair had been brutally short, but now curled a little longer to his neck. His eyes, once so bright and full of ambition, were dull and tired. Percy was thin, thinner than he had been even at the height of the NEWTs. He stood in the doorway and stared at Oliver with unguarded eyes. Oliver stared back. Percy’s mouth trembled and this galvanized Oliver into action. He stepped through the door firmly, wrapping his arms around Percy’s thin waist and slamming the door shut behind them just before Percy burst into tears. The sobs were soft, contained, quiet, like everything else about Percy. Oliver rocked him gently in the hallway, and then once he was a little calmer, walked them to the sofa. He arranged Percy on his lap, tucked that bright, bright head beneath his own scruffy chin, and to his surprise and delight Percy allowed the liberty. Oliver promised him he would stay, that Percy would never be alone again, that Oliver would look after him and make sure everything was ok. Percy finally raised his head and looked at Oliver with disbelieving eyes. “But you could have anyone, Ollie,” he murmured in watery tones. Beneath the tears there was that sweet voice that only came out for Oliver, because Oliver never mocked or teased, never brushed aside what Percy had to say.

Oliver smiled like the sun.


	2. Raisins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy likes raisins and Oliver loves Percy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little addition to the story of these sweet boys that grew longer than I anticipated! :D

Oliver ground his teeth lightly. He was sitting in the Burrow living room after dinner, curled up around Percy who was involved in a passionate discussion with Hermione and Draco, and ignoring him entirely. All evening the Weasleys had been teasing him and Percy, saying Oliver could do better and that Percy was too dull for him. Which was quite annoying enough, but worse, Percy just accepted their comments with a roll of his eyes and didn’t say a word. Oliver knew that’s how Percy thought of their relationship too, and it rankled. If Percy was secure in his own charms it would be a different matter, but apparently Oliver was the only one who saw the attractions of his gorgeous boyfriend.

It was a few months after they had got together; a lovely, whirlwind time of kisses and trying to convince Percy to shag everywhere possible, and also of feeding Percy up and making sure he rested enough. The shagging helped with that too – and it certainly helped with Oliver’s own war-nightmares. Overall, he was proud of how they were both coming along. Oliver had officially moved into Percy’s pristine flat just a few weeks ago. He had expected Percy to be horrified with the messy Quidditch paraphernalia and training gear which made up the bulk of Oliver’s belongings, but the redhead had only smiled wryly at the enormous pile of crap. A couple of waves of his wand and it was all stowed away in a neat cabinet in the hallway. Opening the doors the following day, Oliver wasn’t really surprised to realise that this cabinet was an almost exact replica of the one Percy kept Oliver’s Quidditch stuff in at school. Every evening, Percy walked through the fireplace already waving his wand to tidy it all back up, and most evenings, Oliver already had a meal on the go and was ready for a quick snog before supper.

Recently promoted to first Keeper at Puddlemere, Oliver was plotting to use his extra earnings to hire a house-elf as a Christmas present to them both. At least that way he could be sure that Percy was fed and looked after while he was at away games. He wondered if there would be enough left over for a ring. He knew Percy would say he should save his money instead of wasting it on him, and that made Oliver even more determined. His eyes drifted to Draco as the other man gestured theatrically. The blonde’s slim hand bore a showy, enormous diamond. Oliver wrinkled his nose. He couldn’t afford anything like that just yet, and Percy would be mortified to have such an ostentatious piece anyway. The subtle platinum ring he had spotted the other day in Diagon Alley would be much better.

Decision made, Oliver tuned back into the conversation. Discovering that they were still discussing a point of obscure legislation, he wrapped his arm more firmly around Percy and yawned somewhat more loudly than he had intended. He had been up since 5am for training, and a late night full of Weasleys was more than he could manage right now. Out of nowhere Molly appeared, fussing over both boys and saying they looked exhausted. It was true that Percy had been working longer hours lately too, but tomorrow was Saturday and Oliver was looking forward to a lie-in and a long, leisurely shag with his sweetheart. Some of his plan was quickly changed when Molly insisted that they stay the night at the Burrow with the rest of the family. From Harry’s amused expression, he guessed the other man knew Oliver was already contemplating whether the pervy pleasure of shagging Percy in his childhood bedroom was worth the possibility of being caught by his future in-laws. Still, Harry and Draco were staying at the Burrow more often than not, and Ron and Hermione too. Oliver decided Molly was unlikely to go investigating any untoward noises that escaped a silencing spell, and gladly accepted her offer over Percy’s protests.

** ** **

Oliver bounced down the stairs the following morning. Molly was up, baking for the day while in another area of the kitchen, sausages and eggs were already frying. Several Weasleys were mooching around in varying stages of wakefulness, and Ron was wearing a flowery apron as he supervised the breakfast. Molly looked a little surprised when she greeted Oliver, as well she might, as Percy was normally a very early riser. However, Oliver thought smugly, he was pretty worn out right now and Oliver had cuddled him back to well-earned sleep before getting ready for the day himself. It was a beautiful, crisp morning, and Oliver was looking forward to going for a fly. Maybe Ginny could be convinced to stop groping Luna for long enough to give him a game, and Harry and Draco would surely follow. Life was good.

While he certainly had no intention of discussing his morning activities with the Weasleys, his smug expression must have given him away. George grinned like a shark. “Morning, Wood,” he sniggered. Ginny snorted.

“You’re up early,” she commented while Oliver glared at George. “Been polishing your broom?” When Oliver switched his glare to Ginny, he was dismayed to find she was totally unimpressed by it. “It’s a lovely day for a ride,” she continued, dripping with faux-innocence. He supposed having six older brothers would do that to a girl, even if one of them was currently wearing a flowered apron and giggling into a pan of eggs. Molly shushed them all even while hiding a smile of her own, and pointed Oliver towards the tea pot. He helped himself and sat down after checking his chair carefully. George was recovering slowly from the loss of his brother, and seemed to be doing it by returning to the oldest, crassest pranks from the twins’ childhood. Just yesterday Oliver had barely managed to intercept a magical whoopie cushion before Percy sat on it.

“I’m baking biscuits today,” called Molly from the kitchen bench, to universal cheers. She had a variety of food stuffs out on the counter, and Oliver quickly learned that she was making chocolate chip ones, ginger flavoured ones, and pumpkin ones with tiny bits of toffee inside. This was met with more cheers, as everyone was content that their favourites were coming. Oliver made a snap decision.

“I’m hoping for a game later,” he nodded at Ginny and Harry, who perked up immediately. “But first I’ll pop into town to the bakery for some biscuits for Percy.” This pronouncement was met with expressions of surprise and laughter from the others. “Percy doesn’t like biscuits,” said Ron scornfully, dishing up eggs all round. The others were tucking in like they’d never seen food before and talking with their mouths full, except Draco who was eating with impeccable manners as always. He even had a napkin. Oliver pulled up his own plate, realising he was really hungry.

“He does like biscuits,” he said firmly. More scoffs sounded around the room.

“He only ever takes one, occasionally,” Molly told Oliver kindly. “I think he only does it to be polite. He just doesn’t like them.”

“He doesn’t like any of the flavours you make,” said Oliver loudly. A surprised silence fell and Molly gaped. Oliver decided to press on, though he made his voice softer. “He likes raisin biscuits. He likes them a lot actually. I always keep them in stock at home and he has a couple every day at least.”

“But… he’s never said,” murmured Molly, obviously wracking her brains for some memory of her quietest child showing an interest in raisins. George muttered something about trusting Percy to pick the most boring flavour, and a wooden spoon slowly sailed over from the kitchen to smack across his head. Oliver shrugged as he bolted down the rest of his food.

“Thank you for breakfast,” he told Molly, and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek on his way past to put his dish in the sink. Ron set the dishwashing spell from where he was sitting, already on his second serving of sausages, and complained that he was the one who cooked. Oliver smirked widely and sidled past on his way out of the door, dropping a big smoochy kiss on Ron’s head and causing the others to mock Ron loudly.

Shortly after everyone had finished eating, set their dishes to be washed, and moved onto a final cup on tea, Percy came downstairs. He looked a little flushed from his shower, and was humming cheerfully. The humming stopped the moment he saw his siblings eyeing him with interest, and his open, happy expression turned wary instead. “What?” he asked in a pinched way that was very familiar. He pushed aside the cup George started to pour for him and got his own cup of tea, but nearly spilled it when Molly came up to hug him suddenly.

“Why didn’t you tell me you like raisin biscuits,” she asked in a tone that sounded suspiciously watery.

Percy looked astonished, then said, “Ah! Oliver told you? Where is he?” The others indicated that Oliver had gone into town to fetch biscuits for Percy, which made the quiet man flush with pleasure. For a moment, his face transformed into something pretty and trusting, and his family were taken aback to see this side to Perfect Prefect Percy. Molly gave Percy a piercing look. He just shrugged and put his arm around her. “Don’t worry about it, mum,” he murmured gently. “There’s no sense in making bickies no-one but me will like. It’s a waste of your time and ingredients.”

Before Molly could comment, the oven pinged and she rushed off to remove tray after tray of beautiful chocolate chip biscuits, crisp ginger snaps, and the Weasley special, toffee-pumpkin biscuits. The kitchen filled with oohs and aahs as everyone made grabby hands at the fresh baked goods, burned themselves, and cursed each other out while waiting for the biscuits to cool. Percy just smiled, looking out of the window and sipping his tea dreamily. A few moments later Oliver came back in, so handsome in his muggle clothes, a little windswept from apparating, and clutching a bag from a London bakery near their flat. Percy’s plain brown eyes lit up prettily, and Oliver gave him a look of such adoration that even the oblivious Weasleys couldn’t help but note it. None of them would mock Oliver again for his choice of boyfriend. Percy poured another tea for them both, and they went outside, the bakery bag and an extra plate of chocolate biscuits in hand. Looking out of the window the others could see the lovebirds perched on the bench near the chickens, chatting gently and nibbling their snack. Oliver seemed to be trying to eat a biscuit and kiss Percy’s neck at the same time, and Percy didn’t even complain when crumbs went down his jumper.

** ** **

What with one thing and another, Percy and Oliver didn’t leave the Burrow till after dinner. Oliver had played a long, hard game of Quidditch with the assorted Weasleys, Harry and Draco. He hadn’t played with Ginny before as she had been too young while he was at school, and he was blown away by her skill. He thought the intel he gained would be useful in the next year when Puddlemere played the Harpies. That said, he spent a fair bit of time ensuring Harry and Draco didn’t kill each other as opposing Seekers, although his efforts still ended with Draco storming off in a huff, Snitch in hand. Harry would probably be sleeping on the Burrow sofa tonight.

After a quick wash up the family had sat down again to a huge meal, cooked by Molly who seemingly hadn’t left the kitchen most of the day. Percy had caught up on some work and actually had a nap on the sofa earlier, so he was considerably more alert than Oliver by the time they left. Yet he was surprised too when Molly came up to him and thrust a box of biscuits into his arms. He cracked open the lid slightly and the two men looked inside to find dozens of beautifully baked raisin biscuits. Percy looked up at his mother in genuine astonishment, and she rushed forward to hug him. “It’s not a waste,” she said firmly. “Let me know how you like them, so I can improve the recipe.” She turned to hug Oliver also. “Thank you, dear,” she told him, and though he wasn’t sure what she was thanking him for, he hugged her back happily.

“Could you teach me to make them?” Oliver asked her on a whim, and Molly’s smile could have lit up London.


End file.
